


Gonna Buy You a Robin Bird

by FleetSparrow



Series: Nursery Crimes [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Nursery Rhyme References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 05:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Dick is once again Batman, and he and Damian find themselves on the trail of the strangest case.





	1. Red Robin is Missing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowshus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/gifts).



Dick pulled on the cowl and glanced at himself in the locker's mirror. The cape and cowl didn't sit so heavily on him now that Bruce was back, alive and well. He was only away on a League mission this time. Dick smiled. Damian had been more cheerful than usual in welcoming Dick back to Gotham. Well, maybe cheerful was too strong a word; he was “not displeased” to see him, Damian’s words.

“A smiling Batman,” Alfred said, behind Dick. “That will surely strike fear into the hearts of Gotham’s criminal populace.”

Dick turned, laughing. “It’s my only superpower.”

Damian popped around the corner of the changing area. "Grayson, if you're not ready, I'll go out by myself."

Dick shook his head, amused. "I'm coming, Robin," he said, slipping into his Batman register.

He followed Damian out to the Batmobile, giving Alfred a wave goodbye as he hopped in.

“We’re going to be late,” Damian said.

“Late for what? The show can’t start without us,” Dick said, gunning the car. They zoomed out of the Batcave and headed out into the night.

They had been out on patrol for a couple of hours when Batman and Robin received a strange message over their comm links.

“Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, up went Kitty Cat, down went he. Down came Kitty Cat, away Red Robin ran. Says little Robin Redbreast: ‘Catch me if you can!’ Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade, Kitty Cat jumped after him, and then he was afraid. Little Red Robin chirped and sang, and what did Kitty say? Kitty Cat said: "Mew, mew, mew," and Red Robin flew away. Hrooooo hraaaaa!!”

Dick tapped his comm. “Who is this?” There was no more answer. He switched channels. “Oracle! I need a trace on a comm link.”

“Whose?”

“Red Robin.”

Damian gave him a curious look. He had never heard that poem before, but Dick seemed to recognize it immediately.

“Give me a few,” Oracle said. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Batman out.” Dick stared out over the rooftop at the street below.

“Batman?” Damian asked. “What is it?”

“A nursery rhyme,” Dick said. “But somebody modified it to mention Red Robin. But why? And who might know? And that laugh. I know it, but from where?”

Damian frowned to match Dick’s expression. He didn’t really like Drake, but Grayson did, and that meant it was up to them to find out what had happened to him. Damian went over the nursery rhyme in his mind. It mentioned a cat. Damian liked cats. But cats didn’t always like birds, except for toys or dinner.

“Catwoman,” Damian said.

Dick looked over at him. “What was that?”

“Maybe Catwoman knows where he is. It mentioned a cat.”

Dick stared at him for a long minute, then nodded. “It can’t hurt.”

He opened his comm again. “Batman to Catwoman.”

After a few moments of silence, she responded. “You know, he just calls me Selina.”

Dick smiled. “No names in the field. I’m still training Robin.”

“Meow. What do you need?”

“Have you seen Red Robin tonight?”

“No. Should I have?”

“We just got a weird message—”

“Batman? It’s Oracle.”

“What have you got, O?” Dick asked.

“Coordinates to the last place Red Robin’s comm was located.”

“Send them to me and I’ll be right there. Batman out.”

“What kind of a weird message?” Selina asked.

“A modified nursery rhyme.”

“Sounds like Scarecrow.”

Dick clicked his fingers. “I knew that laugh sounded familiar. If it is Scarecrow, we’re in trouble.”

“Red Robin is, anyway,” Selina said. “Look, why don’t I meet you wherever you’re going? Maybe I can help.”

“OK. Meet us at Tenth and Seventy-seventh.”

“Halfway there. Catwoman out.”

Dick turned back to Damian. “Ready to go?”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Is Catwoman really going to help us?”

Dick couldn’t help a small smile. “Yes. And she might be a very big help. So don’t mope. C’mon.”

They shot their grapple lines and leapt off the building.

When they arrived at the rooftop where Red Robin’s comm was, Catwoman was already there. She was standing in the middle of the roof, looking down at something on the ground.

“I didn’t want to touch it until you got here,” she said, upon their arrival. Dick nodded and knelt down to look at it.

It was Tim’s comm all right, laying on top of a scrap of paper. Dick picked it up. There was nothing special about the paper itself, but the message on it was enough for Dick.

_Annie had a pretty bird,_   
_Feathers bright and red,_   
_Slender legs, upon my word_   
_He looked so pretty dead._

_The sweetest notes he’d always sung,_   
_Which much delighted Annie,_   
_And often where the cage was hung,_   
_She stood to hear Red Robin._

“It doesn’t rhyme,” Damian said, reading over Dick’s shoulder.

“No. But it tells me something,” Dick said. He glanced to Damian. “What does it say to you, Robin?”

“Someone’s kidnapped Red Robin and killed him,” Damian said, a little too excitedly. “Er, or plans to kill him,” he added at Dick’s stern look.

“Who’s Annie?” Selina asked.

“Clayface,” Dick said. “Annie was a sentient part of him.” He looked up at her. “Catwoman, can you run down Harley and Ivy and see if they know where Scarecrow is? Any lead will help. Meanwhile, Robin and I are going to see Matt Hagen.”

Selina nodded. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Thanks.” He tucked the comm and the note into the evidence pocket on his utility belt. “Come, Robin. Let’s go.”

They headed off across town to where the goons and lackeys of Gotham’s villains hung out.


	2. Of Bars and Bats

The bar was called The Bat’s Head. It had opened in the mid-90s as a joint for anybody who had come in contact with the Bat and not made it out in one piece. It certainly wasn’t the kind of place most people would go for information. But then again, Batman wasn’t most people. They didn’t have any kind of outside bouncer; this place wasn’t exclusive. The bouncer was anyone who didn’t like the look of your face.

Batman and Robin burst through the doors. The conversation inside trickled to a stop, every eye in the place on the crime fighters. The bartender picked up a baseball bat from behind the counter and bounced it in his hand.

Batman made his way over to an empty spot at the bar, Robin following him. “I need info on Matt Hagen. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“What happened to the real Bat, huh?” the bartender spat. “He wouldn’t ask.”

Batman shrugged. “I’m feeling generous tonight.”

“Nobody knows. I sure as shit don’t.”

Batman grinned. Robin, meanwhile, had been looking around the bar, and now he’d singled out one man who started getting nervous at the mention of Clayface. He stomped over to the man, leaping up onto the table where he sat.

“You know where he is,” Robin said, grabbing the man’s shirt and pulling him up. “Talk!”

“Hey! Get that kid outta here,” the bartender yelled.

Batman just leaned against the bar casually watching Robin. “What kid?”

“Where’s Clayface?” Robin asked, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “Answer, or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

The man looked between Robin and Batman, but Batman made no motion to stop the kid. Robin pulled out a batarang, holding its razor sharp edge up to the light to let it glisten.

“What’s it going to be?” Robin asked.

“Alright, alright! I’ll talk!” The man tried to lean back, but Robin’s grip held firm. “Hagen’s living in the new construction site on Morrison Avenue. I swear, that’s where he is.” Robin twirled the batarang. “Don’t let him do it, Batman!”

“Robin. Let’s go,” Batman called. Robin shrugged, pocketed the batarang, and dropped the man back into his chair. He hopped down from the table and followed Batman out of the bar.

“You try that shit again, you’re both dead, you hear me, Batman?” yelled the bartender, pointing the baseball bat at them.

Batman turned back towards him and just smiled before leaving.


	3. Oh, What a World!

Outside, they climbed into the Batmobile and took off towards Morrison Avenue.

“That was good intimidation, Robin,” Dick said. “And that was the appropriate place for it.”

“I’ve seen Father do similar,” Damian said. “He wouldn’t have approved of that, though.”

“Well, I do.” He looked sideways at Damian. “I mean, you wouldn’t really have cut his tongue out.”

“Of course not, Grayson,” Damian said quickly. “He wouldn’t have been able to give us information then.”

“Exactly.”

The rest of the ride was silent. The construction site was empty, a hulking husk of a project in the middle of the business district. Dick parked the Batmobile and got out, followed by Damian. Damian looked up.

“Where would he be?”

Dick, meanwhile, was looking down. “They’re laying new cement pipes for water. It’s my money he’ll be there.”

Dick lit up his flashlight and led the way down into the pit where the new water pipes were being laid. Dick lowered himself down, then turned back to offer to help Damian, but Damian had already jumped down beside him. Chuckling to himself, Dick led the way into the pipes.

“Hagen? You in here?” he called.

There was a strange ragged breath from inside one of the pipes. Dick shone his light down it.

“Hagen?”

“Get outta here,” a voice said.

Dick went closer until his light fell on a shadowy figure. It was Clayface alright, but he looked terrible. He was melting more than usual, this time like he couldn’t control it.

“Hagen. What happened to you?”

“Just leave me alone, Bats,” he said. “You can’t help me.”

Dick kneeled beside him. “I’m sure we can. I just need to ask you something.”

Clayface looked at him.

“Where’s Annie?”

Clayface laughed and it sounded more like a cough. “In here. I can’t make anything. I’m just stuck like this.”

“We’ll get you help. Do you know anything about Red Robin? Has he been here?”

Clayface stared at him for a moment then picked up a piece of paper. “This is for you.”

Dick took it, brushing off the bits of Clayface that stuck to it.

_Sing a song of sixpence,_   
_A pocket full of rye;_   
_Four-and-twenty Robins_   
_Baked in a pie!_   
_When the pie was opened_   
_The birds began to sing;_   
_Was not that a dainty dish_   
_To set before the king?_

“Who gave this to you, Hagen? Was it Scarecrow?”

“The doc. He gave it to me.”

Dick frowned and pocketed the paper. “I’ll call you in some help.”

“No. He’ll fix this. He swore.”

“Who?”

“The doctor.”

“Strange? Crane?”

“Get outta here before it’s too late for me!”

Dick backed up. “OK. OK. We’ll go.”

He led Robin back out of the pipes. Once they were out of earshot, he called Black Bat to come and watch over Clayface. “If no one shows up after twenty minutes, go in there and get him out. Batman out.”

Damian opened the pocket on Dick’s utility belt and pulled out the note. Reading it, he frowned, his lip pouting slightly. “What does this mean? I recognize this one, but who does it refer to? The king of what?”

“That’s a good question, Robin. How many kings do we know?”

Damian hopped back into the Batmobile and the two took off. He started counting them off on his fingers. “Clock King. Condiment King. King of the Royal Flush Gang. King Kraken. King of the Cats. King Cobra. King Snake. Sewer King. King Tut.” He glanced side-eyed at Dick. “Tell me it’s not King Tut.”

Dick laughed. “That’s who my money’s on. Everyone he’s tying Red Robin to has been free. Most of the rest are underground right now. King Tut’s the only one who’s set up shop since his release.”

“Don’t tell me. He’s selling antiques.”

“Got it in one, Robin. And can you guess where his shop’s located?”

He frowned. “King Street?”

Dick grinned. “Right again, Robin.”

Damian groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is preposterous!”

“It’s deduction!”


	4. Down on King Street

They arrived at Tut’s Antiques in record speed. The shop was closed, but there was a light coming from the back room. Dick quickly picked the lock and let them inside. There were hushed voices at the back of the store behind a curtain. Dick and Damian made their way carefully through the crowded aisles of stuff.

Dick stopped at the curtain that separated the front and back of the store and listened. The voices became heated and loud.

“If I say you’re cheating, you’re cheating!” Condiment King said. The King of the Royal Flush Gang sat there looking unfazed—not that his mask ever gave away anything.

“You’re just upset you’ve never won a hand. Maybe if you played better.”

“Gentlemen, please!” King Tut said. “Poker should be a gentleman’s game. Now, let’s see if we can’t be—”

Dick took that moment to make his entrance.

“The Bat!” shouted Clock King, who had the seat directly opposite the doorway.

Everyone at the table jumped up, weapons at the ready. Dick held up his hands, smiling, as if the sight of a smiling Batman would put anyone at this table at ease.

“Whoa, easy there. I just came to get some information.”

Robin stood behind him, glowering at them.

“What kind of information could we have for you?” asked King Tut, the first to sit down. He looked regal in his chair, but he was sweating beneath his headdress.

“Red Robin,” Dick said. “Where is he?”

The others laughed. “What happened? Did you misplace him already?” asked Clock King.

King Tut, on the other hand, began sweating a little more. Robin was quick to zero in on him.

“What do you know, Tut?” he asked, stepping forward.

“Absolutely nothing. Why would I?”

Robin got right up into his space. “That’s a good question. Why do you?”

King Tut looked supremely uncomfortable, squirming in his seat. “Call off your attack pigeon, will you?”

“Robin,” Dick said. Robin glared at him a second longer, then took a step back.

King Tut pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Scarecrow gave this to me. He said you’d be waiting for it.”

Dick took it, skimmed it, and nodded. “Good luck with your game, gentlemen. King of the cards there is marking the deck.”

An uproar broke out at the table, allowing Batman and Robin to leave unnoticed.

“What does it say?” Damian asked as soon as they were in the Batmobile. Dick handed it to him silently.

_Five little red robins, hopping by my door_   
_One went to build a nest, and then there were four_

_Four little red robins singing lustily_   
_One got out of tune, and then there were three_

_Three little red robins, and what should one do,_   
_But go in search of dinner, leaving only two._

_Two little red robins singing for fun_   
_One flew away, and then there was one._

_One little Red Robin sitting in the sun_   
_He took a little nap, and then there was none._

“It’s definitely Scarecrow we’re after,” Damian said. “But why didn’t we just go after him in the first place?”

“Because he’s playing a game and we needed to see where he would go with it. Now we know. If he has Red Robin, he’s not going to be in a good state when we find him.”

His comm link fired up. “Catwoman to Batman. I’ve found Scarecrow’s lair. He’s at the old granary.”

“Don’t go in there alone. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“I wasn’t planning to go in there at all,” she said.

Dick snorted. “All right, Catwoman. Thanks for the info. Batman out.”

“As usual, we can’t expect help from her,” Damian said.

“That’s not quite fair, Robin. She’s not trained to deal with Scarecrow.”

Damian tutted, but said nothing further.


	5. Don't Fear the Batman

Dick drove them quickly through the relatively empty streets out to the old farmland. Gotham government had been making noises about building something there, but it was the only open area anywhere near Gotham, and plenty of environmentalists were keen on keeping it. Unfortunately, the remaining buildings were prime spots for supervillains to hide out of the way of the city. Scarecrow had used the old barn there many times before it got destroyed.

They parked out in the empty fields, giving themselves the chance to sneak up on Scarecrow without the car alerting him to their presence. It also gave them a chance to get their rebreathers on before they reached the granary and whatever possible concoction Scarecrow had waiting for them. The doors were broken, one falling off its hinges, allowing them to pass inside without disturbing them or making any noise. Dick signaled Damian to go to the right while he went left.

Tucked in the back of the granary was a portioned off section leading to a lab. It was a crude affair, but there were plenty of Scarecrow’s key chemicals there, just no sign of Scarecrow himself. Dick exited the lab through the sheets of plastic that sectioned it off. He walked into a cloud of fear toxin.

Dick ran straight ahead, barreling into old metal bins and carts used to carry out grain. He had half expected to run right into Scarecrow, but apparently he had no such luck. Scarecrow’s laugh rang out from the other side of the granary and Dick spun on his heel, racing across it to reach Damian.

Scarecrow had managed to rip off Damian’s rebreather, making him vulnerable to the fear toxin in the air. Dick came at Scarecrow like an avenging angel, his cape spread wide behind him, making himself look ferocious. Scarecrow laughed again and pushed Damian towards him.

Damian’s eyes were wide behind his mask. He looked up at Dick with a terror in his face that Dick had never seen there before.

“Robin. It’s just me,” Dick said. “It’s only Batman. You’re safe with me.”

“Batman. I’m sorry!”

Scarecrow took that moment to make his escape, but Dick wasn’t distracted enough. He threw a bolo at him, catching Scarecrow around the legs and tripping him up. He fell to the ground with a hard thud. Dick held his breath and passed his rebreather to Damian. He scooped up Damian and Scarecrow and carried them out of the granary.

Once they were out in the clean, fresh air, Dick dropped Scarecrow and gently set down Damian.

“What did you do to Red Robin, Scarecrow?” Dick asked, his voice deep and menacing, a solid imitation of Bruce’s Bat voice.

“The robin's a fine bird. He sings as he flies; he brings us good tidings, he tells us no lies,” said Scarecrow. “Once I saw a little robin come hop, hop, hop; so I cried, ‘Little robin, will you stop, stop, stop?’ And was going to the window to say, ‘How do you do?’ But he shook his little tail, and far away he flew.”

Dick grabbed him by the shirt and picked him up off the ground. “Coherent answers, Crane.”

“A wise old robin lived in an oak. The more he saw the less he spoke. The less he spoke the more he heard. Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?”

Dick shook him hard. “Cut out the rhymes, Crane.”

Scarecrow went for something in his pocket and Dick punched him on instinct. One punch was generally what it took to knock out Crane, and sure enough, one punch was enough. His hand fell to his side, a rolled piece of paper falling out of it.

Dick dropped him again and turned to Damian. “Are you all right, Robin?”

Damian removed the rebreather, his eyes still wide, but going back down to normal. “I’m fine,” he said. He rolled up his sleeve and injected himself with a general fear toxin antidote.

“What did you see?” Dick asked gently.

“Nothing. Just you. I was—” Damian cleared his throat. “I must have thought you were Father. I was afraid I’d disappointed him.” He didn’t meet Dick’s eyes.

Dick put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s OK, Robin. We’ve all had that fear.”

Damian nodded, but still didn’t meet Dick’s gaze. “What did he say?”

“Nonsense,” Dick said, sighing. He looked down at Scarecrow. “Then again…. ‘The more he saw, the less he spoke. The less he spoke, the more he heard.’ Maybe that’s been our problem. We’ve been so busy tracking down his clues, we’ve missed something bigger.”

“Like what?” Damian asked.

“Like whoever’s really behind this,” Dick said. “Scarecrow didn’t have any place to hide Red Robin in there, or we would’ve bumped right into him.”

“What’s that?” Damian asked, pointing to what Scarecrow had dropped.

Dick picked up the paper. “One swallow does not make a summer,” he read.

“Aristotle,” Damian said.

“Aristotle? That seems like a—” Dick crumpled the paper in his hand as a sudden realization hit him. “Hush. The doctor. Argh!” He smacked his head, then turned to Damian. “What’s the full quote?”

“’One swallow does not make a summer, neither does one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy,’” Damian recited.

“When was Hush ever happy?” Dick asked. “Or where?”

The answer hit them at the same time. “The Batcave!”


	6. Battle for the Cave

“Penny One. Lock down the house. We’re on our way.”

There was no response.

Dick swore under his breath and yanked the lever that turned the Batmobile into a plane. They needed to reach the Cave in a hurry, and they were running out of time. Who knew how long Hush could have been there while they spent their time chasing after Scarecrow and his damned nursery rhymes?

Damian sensed Dick’s tension and kept quiet, still recovering from the dose of fear toxin he’d inhaled. Finally, he looked over at Dick and set a hand on his arm.

“We’ll be in time,” he said. It was Robin’s duty to keep Batman from being too dark, after all, so that’s what Damian was trying to do.

Dick glanced at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched up for a brief moment. “Thanks, Robin. Keep believing it. We’ve got two lives on the line now.”

Damian nodded and patted Dick’s arm, stopping himself from saying that Pennyworth was obviously more important than Drake. He didn’t want Grayson to be disappointed in him.

They flew into the Batcave mountainside entrance, landing in their normal spot. The lights in the Cave were all on, as if nothing unusual had happened. Dick climbed out, switching his lenses to heat vision. There were signs of someone down in one of the halls of the cave and down in one of the traps. He motioned for Damian to go into the cave offshoot while he checked the trap. It was the mirrored one, sensory deprivation except for sight.

The door was wide open. Dick flicked his lenses back to normal to find Tim bound and gagged on the floor. Dick rushed in. Tim looked up at him and shook his head, muttering something behind the gag. Dick took it off first.

“It’s a trap!”

The door slammed shut behind them.

Laughter echoed into their comm links. “You really thought you were as good as Bruce, impostor?”

Dick rolled his eyes and finished untying Tim. “Did he do anything to you?”

Tim shook his head. “Not as far as I know. But I’ve been unconscious for a few hours, so anything’s possible.”

Dick nodded. “Come on.”

There was one mirrored panel that came loose when you pressed on it in the correct fashion. This had been a training test Bruce had made Dick do over and over, to get used to any kind of sensory deprivation. Needless to say, every one of Bruce’s traps had a safety escape built in, just for this type of scenario. No Bat would ever be caught in their own traps.

Damian had just found Alfred, unconscious, tied to a stalagmite. He was just beginning to bring him back into the main part of the Cave when he saw Hush coming towards them.

“Your impostor Batman wasn’t good enough,” Hush said. “Such a shame.”

“What have you done to him?” Damian demanded, torn between letting Pennyworth go and taking down Hush himself or keeping Pennyworth safe from whatever Hush had planned.

“He won’t be a bother anymore,” Hush said, a scalpel in his hand. “And neither will you.”

A shadow fell over them. Damian grinned and Hush spun around, just in time for Dick’s boots to collide with his chest. The scalpel flew out of his hand and skittered across the floor. Dick landed with a thud, rising to his full height over the fallen Hush.

“Your little game’s over, Hush,” Dick said. “You lost. As always.”

He cuffed Hush and led him to one of their holding cells. That would keep him until they could take him in to the police. For now, they had Alfred and Tim to worry about.

Once Alfred was awake again and he and Tim were settled in the medical quarters, Dick headed back to the cell. The door was open, the cuffs were on the floor, and Hush was gone.

“Where do you think he went?” Damian asked. “Do you think he’s still here?”

Dick shook his head. “I doubt it. He’s probably off plotting his next attack. Even he knows when he’s beaten, at least temporarily.” Dick pulled off his cowl and ran a hand through his hair.

Damian looked up at him and removed his mask as well. “You did a good job, Grayson. Father will be proud.”

“You think so? I’m supposed to be the world’s second greatest detective, you know.” Dick sighed and shook his head. “Some days, I don’t feel like it.”

“You’re an excellent detective, Grayson,” Damian said. “You’re just not Father.”

Dick smiled. “That’s probably a good thing. There’s only so much Bruce anyone can handle.”

Damian frowned in thought, then nodded. “Yes, I think I agree with that. Father can be very overwhelming.”

Dick ruffled Damian’s hair. “Come on. Let’s go back and check on Alfred and Tim.”

Damian sighed, as if burdened by this caring for people thing, but followed Dick back to the medical area.


	7. All's Well That Ends?  Well....

Later that night, Damian quietly snuck into Dick’s room. Dick was just starting to fall asleep when he felt a presence in his room.

“Yes, Damian?” he asked, rolling over.

“Grayson. You sleep very unprotected.”

Dick laughed. “I get hot.”

Damian tutted. “I didn’t mean your casual nudity. I meant you sleep too heavily.”

“I heard you come in, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but I had reached your bed before you acknowledged me. Father would have said something before the door shut.”

Dick sat up. “What do you need, Damian?”

Damian stared at the blankets covering Dick’s lap. “You’re not nude again, are you?”

“No, Damian. I’ve got boxers on.”

“Good.” Damian climbed up onto the bed beside him. “You seemed sad about tonight’s events, Grayson. I thought you might like the company. I know Father wasn’t here for you to talk about it, but I’m here, and I’m a good substitute for Father.”

Dick smiled. “You are, at that.” He sat back against the headboard. “Anyway, I’m not really sad about what happened. I am concerned, though. Hush is gone again, who knows where he is. He got close enough again to hit our family directly. He apparently still has enough pull among our usual rogues to get them to help do his dirty work for him. And Catwoman hasn’t checked in since we last heard from her at Scarecrow’s place.”

“This is all very concerning, Grayson. Yes.” Damian chewed his lip. “Father will be displeased to learn that Catwoman is missing.”

“He’ll be worried about all of us.”

Damian nodded. “It was very good detective work you did tonight, Grayson.”

Dick put an arm around him. “You helped me a lot, you know. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“But you do,” Damian said, his voice taking on a slight whine. “Whenever Father’s home, you do everything on your own.”

Dick frowned. “Is that what this is about? Do you not like patrolling with your dad?”

“No, it’s not that,” Damian said, almost too quickly. “It’s just…we were the best, Grayson. You and I. Father and I don’t always get along.”

“You’re too much alike,” Dick said, giving Damian a squeeze. “Sometimes when people are very like one another, they don’t always work well together.”

“We did, though,” Damian said. “We were great together.”

“Do you want me to stay in Gotham more?” Dick asked. “I may not always be Batman, and Batman does need his Robin, but…Nightwing could use a Robin, too, sometimes.”

Damian nodded. “Yes, Grayson. I think that would work.”

Dick smiled. “Well, then. Problem solved.” When Damian made no move to leave, Dick asked, “Would you like to spend the night here?”

“Yes, I think I should. If Hush comes back, you will need protecting. He has something against you, Grayson.”

Dick hugged him. “I’ll sleep soundly knowing you’re nearby.”

“I will wake you in case of an emergency.”

“That’s a good idea, Damian.” Dick scooted himself back down under the sheets. “Come on, Damian. You need to get at least a little bit of sleep, too.”

“I’m a light sleeper, Grayson, don’t worry.” But he also tucked himself under the blankets. “If anyone should come in, I will fight them.”

“You’ll do well, Damian,” Dick said. Damian nodded, and soon fell asleep.

Dick laid awake for a few more minutes, running over in his mind the clues he’d seen, wondering if there was a bigger plan at work than just what they’d gone through tonight. He’d have to tell Bruce about it, definitely. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, but nothing was forthcoming. Dick sighed and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.


End file.
